Page 9 of Not Your Shoe Size

But Ty kept laughing. He couldn’t help it. He laughed until his old firefighting injury flared up, cramping his lower back.

“Are you okay?” Kate asked as he stood to smooth them out.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Your old man’s just falling apart.”

“Don’t say that!”

“That I’m your old man?”

“That you’re oldorfalling apart,” Kate said with an irritation that hadn’t been there when he laughed at her dumpling malfunction. “You’re healthy and strong and gorgeous. Do you need a heat pack?”

“No, baby, I’m fine.”

She shot him a stern look. “So sit and eat with me.”

The hot feeling resurged in Ty’s chest, almost as painful as the injury. She was so fuckingkind. She always knew what he needed to hear. Ty stared into her bright brown eyes and was gripped with an old terror. Five years ago, he’d almost fucked it all up. Been so arrogant and self-flagellating, he’d failed to see the gem Kate had been holding up to him. And, just like that, the question he’d promised himself he wouldn’t ask came bubbling out of his mouth. “Have you thought about what I asked you last month?”

The concerned creases in Kate’s forehead smoothed, her gaze zeroed in on her bowl. “Ty…”

Mistake. He’d just made a stupid fucking mistake.

“You don’t need to say anything. I’m sorry for bringing it up, I just…wanted to know.”

Kate didn’t reply. She kept staring into her soy sauce like she was waiting for it to tell her fortune.

“Baby, it wasn’t a real proposal. I can do it again. Properly. Not that we have to get married.”

“I know,” Kate whispered, drawing her lips into her mouth.

He wasn’t sure she believed him. He wasn’t sure he believedhimself. He didn’t mean to ask Kate to marry him on a Thursday night at a mid-priced wine bar, but they’d been sitting by the window, nursing glasses of Marqués De Murrieta, and her smile…unlocked something in him. He’d gotten on one knee in the cramped little booth and blurted, “Middleton, fucking marry me.”

He wasn’t an idiot, at least not all the time. He’d known getting engaged wasn’t high on her list of priorities. That it might not be there at all. Unlike most women he’d dated, she didn’t start dropping ‘ring hints’ after their one-year anniversary. When they walked through the botanical gardens, she was more interested in the dogs than the brides in their long white dresses. She announced her friends’ engagements with mild confusion, as though they’d taken up beekeeping. He never, ever got the sense she was waiting for him to make an honest woman of her, but something—fear, it was always fear—kept him from asking the question. It was an old mistake. The same he’d made with his ex-fiancée, Veronica, when he’d held back the fact he didn’t want kids. But Kate knew he didn’t want kids. She had driven him home from his vasectomy. He’d never guessed she didn’t want to get married, though. At least not until he was kneeling in old gum in Percy’s Wine Bar. It was the stupidest he’d ever felt, crouching on the carpet while Kate gaped at him as though he’d just grown a second head.

“Ty…no way.”

“Why?” he’d asked, like a total sap. “Is it me?”

Kate looked horrified. “Of course not! I just don’t want to marry anyone.”

And there it was. He’d squinted at the fact as though it was a Magic Eye and with enough effort, he could get it to morph into something else. He’d felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Ty, please stand up?” Kate asked. “The bartender’s watching. I think he thinks you’re wasted.”

He’d stood, feeling absurdly like he was going to cry. He’d ordered another round of drinks, then he and Kate had the marriage chat. He didn’t cry, but Kate did. Tears dripped onto her cheeks as she told him she’d never wanted to get married. He’d asked if she could change her mind and she said she didn’t know. They’d come to no conclusions, but Kate told him he could ask her about it again once she’d had time to think. Evidently, she hadn’t had enough time to think and he’d rushed her back into renegotiations.

“Middleton,” he said, with a stab at indifference. “I know you haven’t changed your mind. That’s fine. I shouldn’t have brought it up so soon.”

Kate looked up from her bowl. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you want to hear. I know you want to get married.”

“I want to get married toyou.”

She gave him a half smile. “You know Ihavethought about getting married, but all I realised was that when I was younger, I thought I’d change my mind when I met the right guy. But if you’re not the right guy, no one is, and I still just…don’t want to. Sorry.”

Don’t be sorry. Just fucking marry me.

There were those who’d call him a hypocrite. He had the far less palatable boundary of not wanting kids. That had ended several serious relationships, including his engagement to Veronica. Who was he to be crushed that his much younger, incredibly attractive girlfriend didn’t want to make a legal commitment to him? But he was, goddammit, and he couldn’t seem to stop probing.

“But why? It wouldn’t have to be a big, traditional church and marquee nightmare. We could do it overseas? Or elope? Or go to the registry?”

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